


ink involved

by taonsils (mirokkuma)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Slice of Life, Tattoos, gross husbands, non-linear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28036818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirokkuma/pseuds/taonsils
Summary: “The guy said just warm water and soap.”“I was paying attention!” Junmyeon pouts, then his brows crease as he starts pulling the sticky film away from his arm. “Then let it air dry and go to bed with your husband.”
Relationships: Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Park Chanyeol
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	ink involved

**Author's Note:**

> I love gross slice of life husbands and I love tattoo fics and I realised I’d never seen any fic about tattoo aftercare? so here I am, here one is ☀️  
> (the warning for self-harm is for a brief past reference and discussion of scars

“You’re allowed to break your diet on tattoo days,” Junmyeon states as though this is some commonly known legal practice. Chanyeol had naturally assumed the second muffin was for him, but he had assumed wrong. “Your body needs the help recovering.”

“That’s true,” Chanyeol nods, watching Junmyeon unpeel more wax paper. The novelty of his husband eating something other than chicken, green things, and no-wheat-after-4pm compensates for his own lack of sugar. It probably _is_ true. After all, if you’ve just been repeatedly stabbed and are weeping all kinds of unpleasant fluids, that’s a lot for your body to deal with. Chanyeol scoots the elbow he’s leaning on a little closer. “Can I get a bite?”

Junmyeon’s enthusiastic chewing pauses, his cheeks full and his eyes wide. “Of course. Sorry,” he muffles behind his hand. The plastic film wrapped around his forearm is tacky and brown and Chanyeol looks away from it as he takes his offered bite. 

Of the two of them Junmyeon had the larger design, coming in at an entire twelve minutes of work. Chanyeol’s is the smaller end of the matching half. The art winds from Junmyeon’s elbow, over his forearm to where it theoretically connects to Chanyeol and continues across his inner wrist. They’re soulmates, or something gay and poetic like that. Now everything’s over and sore they’ve been abnormally at peace. Nothing more to say than what they’ve just done can’t say for itself.

While the actual tattoo may have only taken a handful of agonising minutes and won’t be requiring any drastic levels of care, the whole lead up was pretty exhausting and they probably do both deserve something sweet and healing. Chanyeol was subdued all morning as the daunting reality of his pain tolerance hung over him, while Junmyeon was filled with so much nervous energy they took a detour through a nearby park so he could burn it off before the appointment. (He didn’t.)

Junmyeon’s bare toes nudge Chanyeol’s shin. “That’s more than a bite.”

“What’s yours is mine,” Chanyeol cups his hand over his mouth to catch crumbs. He could take another to be annoying. He could fit the whole thing into his mouth if he really wanted to. If it had been any other day he might have, but it’s tattoo day, so he just threatens to before handing it back over. Their greasy fingers touch. Junmyeon has always been adorable when he scowls.

So here they are, in their home, husbands with tattoos that connect them for life. Sitting in their kitchen, at the table that Chanyeol stripped and revarnished himself two hot summers ago. He got sunburn that didn’t fade until the end of September, but he’d been determined to put the work in. They both took the whole day off for this, despite knowing it would be a short appointment. 

“On tattoo days you’re allowed to spend the rest of the day in bed watching movies,” Chanyeol tells Junmyeon, watching him brush crumbs from the front of his shirt onto the table. He sweeps them into a little pile with the tips of both index fingers. It’s fascinating how he can be so delicate and so messy all at once. “You know, to help conserve energy for healing.”

Junmyeon nods, swallows, and his cheeks deflate to their usual roundness. “I’ve heard that too.” He hums, then squashes the pile of crumbs under a finger and goes about carefully avoiding his lips while eating them. Chanyeol should probably convince him to eat sweet things more often before he starts licking the table. “Has it been two hours yet?” Junmyeon asks around the tip of his finger. Junmyeon wears a watch and his phone is on the table, and the oven has a timer on the front, but he’s on an important mission to hoover up any muffin that may have escaped when it was passed between them.

“Close enough.”

Junmyeon’s attention immediately shifts. He starts picking at the tape around his forearm. “Oh, thank god. This is so uncomfortable. Is yours? It’s itchy.”

Chanyeol nods yes, then follows Junmyeon’s lead and unpeels the edge of the white tape around his wrist. “The guy said just warm water and soap.”

“I was paying attention!” Junmyeon pouts, then his brows crease as he starts pulling the sticky film away from his arm. “Then let it air dry and go to bed with your husband.”  
  
They both free their new tattoos at the same time and both make little sounds of relief at feeling cool air on the skin. Junmyeon giggles, and Chanyeol leans across to drop a kiss to the top of his hair before going to start the water running warm.

Neither of them said so, but knowing each other they mutually agreed to booking the whole day off so they could have as much emotional bond fuelled sex as required. Kind of like a wedding night, but a tattoo night. Knowing each other, neither of them complains that the evening is a tangle of favourite movies, kisses, and Chanyeol cries for the third time on tattoo day.

  
♡ﾟ︎・。゜♥︎｡ﾟ

  
Fresh tattoos are disgusting on the first morning. The printout they were given (one each, but Chanyeol folded both together into his backpack) warned so - something about lymph, ooze, gunk to wake up to. Not pleasant.

Junmyeon offers a wincing smile when Chanyeol joins him in the bathroom, moving to sit on the edge of the tub so Chanyeol can have the basin. “I think this is the part where you wonder why you did it.” Junmyeon’s sleeve is rolled over his bicep, his arm damp and small puddles at his feet. His ink is now clean and pink ridged and sharp again. “Looks gross, it’s sore, do you really want it forever after all?”

Still kind of like a wedding night. Chanyeol snorts and shakes his head, starts running warm water for himself. “No regrets,” he says, turning his hand back and forth to take in the full design. It’s gooey. It was stuck to the duvet when he woke up. “You? I never thought you’d get one.”

Junmyeon raises his shoulders and pulls his lips back in a duck-ish sort of pout. “Never thought I’d marry you, either, did you.” He tilts his head. “What _do_ you know about me, Chanyeol?”

“That you think you’re going to get a kiss if you look at me like that for long enough,” Chanyeol replies easily, focused on the water level in the basin. “Or something in your mouth if you’re annoying for long enough.”

Junmyeon gasps, scandalised. With him sitting and Chanyeol standing it’s not like it would take much effort. “Am I wrong?”

Surprisingly the water doesn’t sting. The skin is sore and swollen where Chanyeol tentatively rubs his fingers over the lines to help break away the crusty sludgy mess, but not as bad as he’d feared. “Wasn’t this about if I was wrong?”

“I think you said it was about keeping my mouth occupied.” Junmyeon sways on his perch on the edge of the tub. “Chanyeollie~ What’s yours is mine, you said so.”

“Me and what’s mine needs to be at work on time because I took the whole day off to be yours forever.” Chanyeol gives Junmyeon a look as he leans past him for a towel to pat his arm dry, but it’s evidently a look they interpret differently. _We’re spending the rest of our lives together so let me get ready without being a brat_ was what Chanyeol was going for. Junmyeon catches him and kisses him as though he won’t get another chance, fingers working tight into Chanyeol’s hair.

Chanyeol draws back first, but not far. Junmyeon knowing he’s always at an advantage is a terrible thing. “I need to get ready, Junmyeonnie,” he insists, and then Junmyeon’s knees are drawn up and locked tight against his sides. Still some miscommunication going on here. “I’ll carry you if you don’t let go.” 

Junmyeon gasps again, softer this time. He’s unfairly pretty for this time of day, still rumpled from sleep and (thankfully, for Chanyeol) not fully alert. “I would just hate that,” he beams, “If you had to _carry_ me back to bed.”

“Who said it was back to bed? I’m going to dump you in the kitchen.”

“To bed!” Junmyeon instructs, giggling, and clutches tight at Chanyeol’s shoulders.

For a moment Chanyeol debates this, and his back, and the chances of Junmyeon actually giving him some peace if he doesn’t oblige. “Alright, alright, back to bed. But only if you behave and stay put,” he warns, hooking his arms securely around Junmyeon’s back. Junmyeon giggling again doesn’t inspire much confidence.

Chanyeol knew that he loved Junmyeon within moments of meeting him, and he knew it was wise to spend the next three years looking for reasons not to. He knows Junmyeon’s a cruel perfectionist, a weak drinker, an easy crier, and that his left eyebrow has a whole range of movement independent of the rest of his features. He knows Junmyeon’s little quirks - his sounds, his smiles, the shifts in his tone - inside out, and he knew exactly what he was letting himself in for when he proposed. 

(Junmyeon’s right, though; Chanyeol really didn’t think that Junmyeon would say yes.)

  
♡ﾟ︎・。゜♥︎｡ﾟ

  
“‘For the first few days your new tattoo should be treated like a w-’ I’m eating,” Chanyeol says mournfully, pushing the sheet of paper across to Junmyeon and taking a sad bite of protein bar. They taste like cardboard with raisins in, but Junmyeon’s got him hooked on eating them recently. It’s the mouthfeel. 

Junmyeon brings the text an inch from his nose. It looks as though the studio have photocopied it a thousand times and haven’t changed the ink once. “Well, it is a wound, technically.”

“I don’t want to think about it technically,” Chanyeol huffs. He’s been tasked with buying them lotion, seeing as he’s the one leaving the house today. Slightly late, because as always he should have known better than thinking he could just wake Junmyeon for a goodbye kiss and then leave. Junmyeon changed from his sleep-sleep clothes into his day-sleep clothes and everything about him is soft and unfair.

“It’s going to get scabby and needs keeping moist, that’s all it says. Baby.” It’s an admonishment, but Junmyeon’s been pretty lax at barbing his intimacy recently. It still makes Chanyeol’s heart ache, in a weird way. But nowhere near as much as his wrist aches right now, god, the sooner he leaves the sooner they can have lotion.

  
(“You’re the baby,” Chanyeol retaliates six hours later.

“ _You’re_ the baby. Can’t even call it a wound,” Junmyeon scoffs. His arm is protectively cradled to his chest. Chanyeol bumped him with his knuckles by accident - a simple hazard of trying to spoon your husband when he’s small and wriggly and clingy as a koala - and Junmyeon’s never one to not be dramatic. The pain is different now it isn’t open and seeping, and Chanyeol seems to be handling the change better.

“I’m the baby,” Chanyeol agrees amiably. “Your baby, that you just promised to love for your entire life. Again.” 

Junmyeon hums. Or maybe growls. Chanyeol nuzzles in at his nape either way. “At least say you’re sorry.”

“You first.”

Junmyeon’s pout turns glaring. “What for? No, you first,” he demands. The warm trail of kisses from his neck to the sensitive skin behind his ear is better than hearing any apology.)

  
♡ﾟ︎・。゜♥︎｡ﾟ

  
Chanyeol is both a proactive and deeply inquisitive person, with anxiety being a driving force for both. So getting the correct lotion for their tattoos has turned into a two day ordeal, because he wants to do good and he wants to achieve it in the long-term. If one of their designs like, got infected and fell off or something, what use would speed have been?

The pharmacist was his first guess, but neither the disapproving younger woman nor the kindly bemused older man working there had any suggestions. The internet suggested everything from rash cream for babies to supermarket brand moisturiser. Deeply troubling.

  
“We should have just bought the overpriced tubs they were selling at the tattoo place,” Chanyeol sighs.

Junmyeon nods, frowning deeply. He’s trying to read the label on the tube Chanyeol brought home, but without either his glasses or contacts he looks more like he’s trying to will it to combust or fly across the room. “But this will be fine?”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says with the confidence he’s built up in the hours since he bought it, “It doesn’t have a scent, and I got the most low allergen sensitive skin thing I could find. It was expensive. But at least we can keep using it just like, day to day?” 

“Mm,” Junmyeon turns the tube in his hands, “Sounds like you did a good job.”

They’d just wanted to look like they knew what they were doing. Which, they didn’t, but Chanyeol felt the need to save face after how much he sniffled when it was his turn.

  
Chanyeol is in charge of the tube. Their room divides in a cluttered line between their sides of the bed, and Junmyeon’s nightstand is a definite no-go for small tubes. (Three times they’ve had to buy new lube before even half finishing one due to a mysterious disappearance. _Three_ ). So Chanyeol brings it to bed with them, deliberates over whether it should sit on the left or right of his retro digital clock, then snatches it back up to uncap.

Junmyeon wriggles closer. “Finally, it’s felt so sore, I- _hey_.”

“You’ll be messy doing it when you can’t see,” Chanyeol explains, holding it out of Junmyeon’s reach. “Give me your arm.”

“I could do it.” Junmyeon pouts, but he obediently drops his wrist across Chanyeol’s thigh anyway. “Just be careful with me, yeah?” He’s teasing, but his tone is sleep warm and too soft to bite.

“Always,” Chanyeol says. He holds the tube to his face and his tongue pokes out as he squeezes with tentatively increasing pressure. It’s thin metal, old fashioned with a modern stylish label. It’ll look nice in their room even once it’s dented and emptied. “Ok, just a little,” he says more to himself than Junmyeon, dotting a fingertip with lotion. “Tell me if it stings or anything.”

Junmyeon would, of course, make a huge fuss if it hurt. But it doesn’t, at all. It’s thick and cool and so blissfully soothing that Chanyeol startles at how abruptly Junmyeon goes soft and melty at his side. 

“Feels..” Junmyeon frowns. The pad of Chanyeol’s finger tracing the raised line is a sensation he’s never experienced before. He isn’t sure if it’s a pleasant one or not, but it’s..it’s something. “I can feel it more than I thought for such thin lines.” It’s sore and soothing at once, and so intimate Junmyeon’s barely breathing.

Chanyeol nods, squeezing out another small dot of lotion and taking Junmyeon’s forearm back in both hands, gently turning it to access the tender skin at his inner arm. “So it’s ok?” He circles around the area where the thick blue vein and design intertwine. Junmyeon always feels so soft.

“It’s nice.”

Chanyeol knows that tone well. “You’re horny because you love me,” he says, not looking up.

Junmyeon sort of grumbles, sort of just grips at his soft flannel sleep shirt and squirms like he can burrow down deeper into it. “No. It feels good,” he huffs, “It feels really good because it hurt before. And it’s kind of..” His eyes are heavy lidded now. “Maybe a little. But shut up.”

“Did I say anything?”

Junmyeon huffs. “I can sense when you’re thinking annoying things.”

Yes, yes. Chanyeol gives the heel of Junmyeon’s palm a squeeze with his thumb, then lets him go. “Not my fault you think it’s annoying that I like taking care of you. Try to take care of you all the time but you never let me.” His tongue pokes out again as he pinches the end of the tube, working the lotion down. “We could do things like this more often if you didn’t get all grouchy about overworking yourself.”

Junmyeon, now an even smaller grumblier little ball, replies in loud nose breathing as he gets comfortable on his pillow. After a long, silent moment of watching Chanyeol painstakingly turning the end of the tube over to roll down as it’s emptied, Junmyeon asks, “Can I do yours?”

“Mine?” Chanyeol lets out a little laugh. “No, you can’t. That’s why I did yours, so you don’t make a mess.” 

“So not because you just want to take care of me after all. I knew it.” Junmyeon sighs drastically. His voice is still in that warm place, lower in his chest, betraying his complaints.

For a moment Chanyeol ignores him in favour of smoothing lotion over his own tattoo. He totally understands Junmyeon’s reaction now, god, it’s blissful. “How about,” Chanyeol stays focused on tracing lines, “When I’ve finished doing this, you can take care of me in other ways.”

Another silence. Chanyeol caps the tube, leans over to set it to the right of his clock, looks back at Junmyeon. He’s giving Chanyeol one of those expressions mostly emoted through his eyebrows. “Maybe,” Junmyeon says, “I guess I do kind of love you.”

  
♡ﾟ︎・。゜♥︎｡ﾟ

  
There’s a single white scar on Chanyeol’s inner wrist, as thin as the craft blade he made it with. The tattoo covers it perfectly, because Baekhyun - their artist - has an observant eye and rotated the stencil just slightly from what they’d agreed. He’d asked if that was what Chanyeol wanted, like this, not how he’d imagined it but- y’know, Baekhyun can do that. He can make it work, if that’s what Chanyeol would like. 

While the ink is fresh and stands out from the skin it looks like the only mark there, but Baekhyun warned him that when it heals the raised line will still show through. Less noticeable, though. He habitually hides away in his oversized sleeves unless it’s mid-summer anyway.

He’d have managed fine anyway, Chanyeol thinks, going through the rest of his life with it plain to see. It’s a part of him. Chanyeol doubts many people notice it, and if they do most probably don’t consider how it got there. Junmyeon absently strokes over it with his thumb sometimes, the sting and the sunrise exhaustion just another part of Chanyeol’s past now.

“Is it hurting?” Junmyeon asks softly, sidling closer, “You’ve been looking at it a lot the past few days.”

“It’s old, the tattooing didn’t hurt it.”

“Ah.” Junmyeon presses his mouth to Chanyeol’s shoulder. “Just looks different now.”

Yeah. Chanyeol nods, then leans his head back against Junmyeon’s. “Things are just..” Everything is totally different now. Chanyeol never felt he went through some big change or moved on as such, he was just fortunate enough to find someone who leads him in a better direction. “I hadn’t even thought about covering it, but maybe it’s a good thing.”

Junmyeon breathes hot through the fabric of Chanyeol’s shirt. “A bonus,” he suggests.

Chanyeol forces back a smile for a sigh. “Meaning being connected to you is the main prize, I suppose?”

“Of course!” Junmyeon pulls away to pout right in Chanyeol’s face, solemn mood immediately gone. “What else would it be?”

“Of course,” Chanyeol mimics, smiling with his tongue out and teeth pressing into it. He tries to twist his arm around to capture Junmyeon and pull him into a hug, but it becomes a complicate manoeuvre with fabric and forearms and ink involved.

“Noo _o_ ,” Junmyeon whines, wriggling, “It’s all crusty and gross, don’t knock any off! We’ll have to get them redone! And then the tattoo guy- Baekhyun, then he’ll make fun of us for ruining such small designs.”

Chanyeol gasps, freezing with an arm raised and Junmyeon awkwardly off-balance against his side. “You’re right. We already tried so hard to avoid him thinking we’re not the tattooed type.”

Baekhyun would have definitely made fun of Chanyeol for tearing up at the prospect of such a small design if it weren’t for their prior conversation about covering his wrist. He’d been too professional to tease, but Chanyeol definitely caught him smirking when he ducked away to refill from an ink cap.

“But that means no hugs for..how long did he estimate for healing? Four weeks for the scabs to come off?” Chanyeol frowns pensively, “Think we can manage that long keeping a distance?”

Junmyeon may be small as a button and light as a leaf, but Chanyeol still squawks indignantly at all the places he plants his sharp little elbows and knees in the process of clambering fully into Chanyeol’s lap.

  
♡ﾟ︎・。゜♥︎｡ﾟ

  
Two whole days before they were due to travel out to Yongsan, Junmyeon picked out a _casual enough for someone getting a tattoo but warm enough for the time of year and suitably queer coded for the occasion_ outfit. He did all the research, all the emailing. Because he’s excited, and if he’s getting his first and only tattoo then he wants to do it as textbook perfect as something with vague legality can be. Chanyeol was the one who was most enthusiastic about the wedding, so it’s fair that Junmyeon is enthusiastic about this, right? It’s an expression of love.

This studio seemed nice in reviews, and as scary places with needles go, seemed pleasant in person too. From the outside it was easy to miss - one of two blocky low-roofed buildings at the end of a public parking lot. Next door to it is a laundromat with thick tufts of grass growing against the walls. The music from the back of the room was loud enough to drown out any rumbling from the machines.

While they waited on a red leather couch Chanyeol was practically vibrating with nerves, and Junmyeon took to folding their appointment card in on itself over and over. Amongst the skulls and fire and everything else Junmyeon had anticipated to find on the walls, there was a flyer for the next drag event at a venue he’d never heard of. Hasn’t done much of that kind of thing since they got married. God, he really did become his own worst nightmare. Kim Junmyeon, 30, a settled queer.

“You look so out of place here,” Chanyeol commented fondly, slipped his hand between the tight line where their thighs meet. “In your _getting a tattoo_ outfit.”

“I spent twenty five minutes coordinating this,” Junmyeon sniffed indignantly. His silky hair was _tousled_ for the occasion.

“That’s why you’re out of place,” Chanyeol grinned. The holes in Junmyeon’s jeans were man-made in a factory. “Not saying it doesn’t look nice, just-”

Behind the tall counter a latch clicked open, startling them both. Chanyeol’s hand swiftly disappeared back into his hoodie pocket.

Their tattoo artist had silvery hair, silver chains hanging from one ear, and an indistinct glint of metal in his mouth when he looked up from his schedule book and said, “Oh, finally, some gays.”

**Author's Note:**

> I started this in january then lost the ability to even think about writing for pretty much the entire year, so I’m relieved it’s at least done and posted within 2020! big smooch to my gf for reminding me of what I like to write even when I can’t remember myself  
> thank you for reading ! ☀ I am on [twt](https://twitter.com/taonsil) ❀ [cc](https://curiouscat.me/suyeols) crying about suyeol always


End file.
